She slipped her arms tentatively around him, barely touching his skin. She’d been engaged for six months, but she’d never been held with such intensity. Perhaps that’s what happens after a crisis. Maybe you experience things more deeply.
‘Thank you,’ he murmured. ‘She’d have drowned.’
He drew her closer and held her for a long time. With his wet body moulded against her, the rest of the world vanished. She could hold this man for eternity. Just the two of them on an Italian beach in the afternoon light. So perfect. Soul mates meeting.
He eased himself away.
The sand between her toes suddenly became fascinating. Soul mates. The saltwater had messed with her logic. Hell, she didn’t even believe in that rubbish. Shock, that was it. She rubbed her eyes, hoping to bring back some sense of reality. This man’s touch had ignited a flame of need so strong it frightened her. Her fiancé had never affected her like this.
She gave herself a mental slap. Get a grip. He has kids. He’d be married.
‘How can I ever thank you . . .’ he said. She realised he wanted her name.
‘Charlotte.’ What would he think of the ideas floating through her mind? ‘But call me Charlie,’ she said, thrusting her hands into the pockets of her damp shorts.
Best not to touch him again.
‘Gabriel,’ he said, a smile lightly touching his lips as he held out his hand. ‘Call me Gabe.’
She hesitated then took his hand. There it was again, sheer sexual pull – unmistakable.
Tugging her hand free, she ran her fingers through her hair from scalp to tip. She needed her head read. She’d just walked away from one sexual disaster. She didn’t need this sort of feeling. This was her year.
No family. No bloody diamonds. No cheating fiancé. In fact, no men altogether.
An ambulance officer interrupted. They wanted to get moving.
‘Sorry,’ Gabe said. ‘I’ve got to go.’
But he didn’t move. He held her gaze then reached across and brushed a long wisp of hair from her cheek. His gentle touch sent a shudder of desire through her body, washing away any lingering fatigue. He took a breath as if to say something, but changed his mind.
‘Come on, Rupert,’ he called to his son, who was playing in the sand at their feet. Rupert didn’t move.
The officer insisted Gabe go with Amelia, and he turned and walked away.
Charlotte gazed after him. The best time she’d had in Italy. Gone. Just like that. She smiled ironically. Of course her best time included near drowning, bringing a kid back from the brink and calming an almost hysterical boy.
As she stood gazing after Gabe, she became vaguely aware of the officer reaching for Rupert. Rupert screamed and rushed behind Charlotte, cowering. The ambulance officers could do nothing to coax him away.
She knelt down and her heart melted as Rupert’s bottom lip trembled.
‘It’s okay, darling,’ she said, holding his hand and rubbing his arm reassuringly. ‘This man’s here to help.’
‘I don’t know what he’s saying,’ Rupert said, burying his head into the cotton of her shirt.
‘Rupert,’ Gabe called. The little boy looked torn. He obviously wanted to be with his dad, but didn’t want to leave the safety of Charlie’s arms.
Charlie took Rupert’s hand and walked up to the boulevard where Gabe was waiting.
‘He wants you,’ she said.
‘No, I want her,’ Rupert sobbed, tugging Charlotte’s hand as though she were a treasured security blanket.
‘Sorry, Rupe, we have to go to the hospital,’ Gabe said. ‘And Charlie has to get back to her holiday.’
Rupert blinked up at her through watery eyes. ‘Can’t you come too?’
‘I could come with you,’ Charlotte said.
‘No, really, we’ll be all right. Come on, Rupert.’
Exactly. They didn’t need some Aussie backpacker tagging along. But ridiculously, his dismissal hurt somewhere deep within her.
Rupert dropped to the pavement, whimpering. Gabe looked from the ambulance to Rupert and back again. The officers held the ambulance door open, urging Gabe to hurry.
‘It’s probably just the shock,’ Gabe said, leaning down to pry Rupert from the ground, but the child affected a dead weight. Gabe threw up his hands.
‘You got anything planned for this afternoon?’ he asked grimly. ‘Any chance you’d like a tour of the local hospital?’
‘Sure.’ It wasn’t as if she had any pressing engagements. ‘Just let me . . .’
Charlotte scanned the beach. She turned around a few times to orientate herself, but there was no mistake – her backpack had vanished. Her hand flew to the money belt around her waist. Her valuables – passport, credit cards, cash – all wet but secure. Looking around again, anxiety coursed through her. It’d be fruitless to start searching. Her bag would be long gone. She let out a long slow breath.
‘Something wrong?’ Gabe asked.
With a half-drowned child and one in hysterics, she didn’t feel a missing backpack warranted a mention. Every guide book advised you never to leave your personal items unattended. Less than a week in Italy and she’d failed Travelling 101.
‘No,’ she said, her gaze making one last sweep of the beach.
Picking up Rupert, she swung him onto her hip. He immediately buried his head in her neck. She’d just keep rolling with the punches. Anyway, shopping for new clothes in Italy wasn’t going to be a hardship.
‘Let’s go,’ she said.
Before they climbed into the ambulance, Gabe placed a hand on the small of her back.
‘Thank you.’
His touch warmed her to her toes. She feared she’d do anything for this man.
‘It’s nothing. Anyone would’ve done the same,’ she said, trying to sound casual.
His dark blue eyes took on the sheen of polar ice.
‘No, Charlie.’ His voice was sharp and tight. ‘The world is full of people who don’t give a damn.’
The heart monitor produced a comforting regular pulse. Gabe eased back in his chair and relaxed his shoulders. The doctor had given Amelia the all clear but wanted to keep her under observation for the next few hours. She slept peacefully in the narrow hospital bed.
Beyond their curtained cubicle, Gabe could hear the frantic proceedings of the emergency department. He hoped Charlie and Rupert were okay in the crowded waiting room.
Charlie. Why had he trusted this woman so quickly? He’d never done that before. She clearly had no idea who he was. His breakout television series, Reaching for the Stars, had aired in Australia with local judges, so he’d probably rarely be recognised there.
Not like life at home. His television shows were huge hits in Britain with some international syndication, but he’d yet to crack the lucrative US market. A hit in the US, an Emmy, and then he’d have the credibility to make his film.
A nurse flipped back the curtain and pulled the chart from the end of Amelia’s bed.
‘Come sta?’ she asked.
‘Sorry,’ Gabe said, holding up his hands. ‘No Italiano.’
‘English?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Me too,’ she said, studying the chart. ‘I’m on a working holiday.’
‘Ah,’ said Gabe. The nurse reviewed the chart, looked at him closely and then returned to the chart. ‘Grenville,’ she said, staring at him none too subtly. ‘You’re Gabe Grenville.’
Wow, even in a foreign hospital’s emergency ward he wasn’t spared. He nodded reluctantly.
‘The star maker,’ she said, with a touch of awe in her voice.
He rolled his eyes at the title bestowed on him by the tabloid press. Okay, so his shows did transform everyday people into instant celebrities, but being pursued by every British man, woman and child who wanted to be famous was becoming very tedious.
‘Are you in Italy making a show?’ she asked a little breathlessly.
‘No, just on holiday. How’s Amelia?’ He s
tood, hoping to put the focus back on the person who needed it.
‘Oh, she’s fine. Fine,’ the nurse said, dropping the chart back in place before plonking herself on the side of the bed. She flicked back her hair and crossed her legs. ‘What are you working on, then?’
‘Nothing. The other nurse checked Amelia’s pulse,’ he said, certain this nurse had forgotten the little girl was there.
An ugly look crossed the woman’s face. An overly bright smile followed quickly. The nurse made a big fuss of checking Amelia’s pulse.
‘You know, I’ve always wanted to be on TV,’ the nurse crooned as she leaned in close to Gabe.
You and everyone else.
A screeching alarm sounded beyond the cubicle. The nurse slipped from the bed and glanced towards the source of the sound, but she didn’t leave.
‘Shouldn’t you go?’ Gabe asked.
The nurse finally stalked from the curtained space. Gabe collapsed into the chair again. Fame. Why was it so seductive? It wasn’t enough for people to be married, have a good job, travel or whatever else they did with their lives. As one young woman had said when she’d thrown herself at him, if you’re not on TV, you might as well be dead.
But he couldn’t complain. His shows had virtually invented the instant celebrity. He could spot ruthless ambition a mile away.
Except in Sophie. He stood and paced up and down the small space. Who’d have expected an heiress, a woman already celebrated in the social pages, to have been so desperate for onscreen fame? And to try to achieve it through such brazen manipulation? He swore and leaned on the end of the bed. No woman would ever use him like that again. Ever.
Of course, it made dating difficult. He usually realised within five minutes the woman imagined she was at an audition, not a casual dinner.
His thoughts strayed back to Charlie. Was there an idea for a show in what happened today?
Everyday Heroes. Right Place, Right Time.
He gave his head a little shake. Probably not a good idea to develop a TV show from your niece’s near drowning.
Amelia murmured in her sleep. Gabe stood and stroked her hand lightly. He dreaded telling his sister what had happened – she didn’t need more worries. When he’d suggested taking the children abroad during her last chemo treatment, she’d protested. But he knew she needed the rest. Her prognosis was excellent, thank goodness, and after this last treatment, the doctor expected to give her the all clear.
When Emma had waved them off last week, she’d given him a lecture. All work and no play . . . blah, blah, blah. As if he were the one who needed some R&R.
‘Go, meet someone,’ she’d advised. ‘Not every woman’s a Sophie Eddington-Smythe.’ But how would he know? No, he wouldn’t touch a woman until he was sure of her motives. A hint of deception and he’d run a mile.
Amelia appeared to have settled. He sat.
He needed a new concept. Amelia’s blonde Aussie saviour flashed into his mind. There was a story there, he could tell. Something about her intrigued him. Certainly very few women did that these days. It wasn’t just her long blonde hair, athletic body and cute accent. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, just enjoying her image drifting through his mind.
His eyes snapped open. He shifted, uncomfortable in the plastic chair. In the end she’d discover who he was. Then she’d want something from him.
Discover who he was. Then she’d want something from him.
Just like everyone else.
Chapter Two
Charlie glanced again at the waiting room clock. Ten o’clock.
They’d arrived about four that afternoon and the emergency room had been a mad house. Gabe and Amelia had been whisked away. Rupert hadn’t been allowed to accompany them into the inner sanctum of the department so Charlie had stayed to look after him.
She heard the double doors to the waiting room swing open, but she didn’t look up. She’d stopped checking after the first hour crept by.
Rupert had done well, but with the hours dragging on, his little nerves had frayed. She’d run through her full repertoire of nursery stories and finally he’d fallen into a fitful sleep on her lap. She stroked his hair and sand fell in a stream to the floor. The poor child needed a warm bath and bed.
She looked at the clock again. Two past ten. The warmth of Rupert’s little body couldn’t kill the anxiety building in her chest. She’d only arrived in Genoa an hour before she’d taken that plunge in the sea. Her backpack was gone. Her only clothes were the ones she was wearing. She ran her hand down her shorts. Damp. Her shirt was stiff with salt.
Outside, darkness had descended. Charlie shivered as an icy knot formed in her stomach. She had nowhere to stay and she didn’t know anything about this city.
Spontaneous backpacking. She rolled her eyes. She’d been determined to travel without the usual trappings of her extravagant life. No detailed itinerary. No five-star hotels with laundry service. No uncomfortable five-inch heels and tedious cocktail dresses. She wanted to try life on her own terms.
So everything hadn’t been smooth sailing. In just a week she’d slept with bedbugs in a Roman youth hostel, had her laptop stolen in a café in Florence and, on the train from Rome to Genoa, she’d been hassled all the way by a group of sinister-looking youths. Now she’d lost all her possessions. Her backpacking skills were awesome – not.
‘I’m so sorry, Charlie.’ Gabe’s weary voice interrupted her reflections. She sat straighter in her chair and Rupert wriggled in his sleep.
Gabe’s eyes looked dull. He carried Amelia, sleeping in his arms.
‘Everything all right?’ Charlie tried to stand, but Rupert’s body pinned her to the chair.
‘Yes. She’s fine, but I have to keep an eye on her for the next few days.’
‘What a relief.’
‘Yes, but I’m not looking forward to telling her mother.’
A stab of disappointment centred in her chest.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, tapping her head in frustration. ‘I could’ve called her for you.’
A faint smile touched Gabe’s lips. ‘It’s okay. It would’ve been a little hard for her to get here.’
Charlie frowned.
‘She’s in England,’ he said.
‘Oh.’ Charlie dropped her eyes and stroked Rupert’s hair. Clearly a delicate area. She shouldn’t trespass.
‘Can we go home now, Uncle Gabe?’ Amelia mumbled.
Charlie’s eyes flew to Gabe’s face.
‘Uncle?’ Heat rose in her cheeks. The joy in her voice had been unmistakable. Had he noticed?
This time his smile triggered a sensual tingle through her body.Yeah, he’d noticed.
‘Yes. Amelia and Rupert are my sister’s children. She’s been sick. I thought I’d give her a break and take the kids on holiday.’
‘Oh.’ Kind and single?
‘Pleeease.’ Amelia drew the word out long and loud. ‘Can we go home?’
Gabe rubbed the little girl’s back. ‘Sure. Are you all right to walk? I’ll have to carry Rupert.’
Charlie shifted in her seat and scooped Rupert into her arms. Rupert didn’t wake, he just snuggled into her chest.
‘Don’t worry, I’ve got him.’
‘Thanks, you’re an angel. Let’s find a taxi.’
At Gabe’s words, although exhaustion permeated every cell, renewed energy zinged through her.
The heat of the day had been replaced by a cool sea breeze. A taxi stood idling in a rank just down the road. It took a little wrangling to organise the kids into their seat belts, but soon Charlie and Gabe were standing on the pavement facing each other.
It seemed as if she’d only just looked at him properly for the first time. Somehow, the moonlight accentuated their difference in height. Being tall, she often stood eye to eye with men. For once, she was shorter.
‘So,’ she said, not really knowing where to look. ‘I’ll be . . .’She indicated over her shoulder as if she planned to walk off down the roa
d. Not that she had any idea where she was in relation to the nearest hotel.
‘For goodness’ sake, Charlie, get in the taxi,’ he said, taking her arm and opening the front door. ‘I’m not going to leave you here. Where are you staying?’
‘Um. I don’t know yet.’ She looked around as if a hotel might magically appear out of the darkness.
A frown creased Gabe’s handsome face. He looked around. ‘Is your bag at the station?’
‘No. I had it with me at the beach. I only arrived in Genoa today.’ She paused. ‘Um, when I went to help Amelia, someone must have stolen it.’
Gabe’s eyes widened. ‘What?’
Charlie shrugged. ‘Someone must have run off with it.’
‘Let me get this straight.’ His brow furrowed. ‘You’ve spent most of the day helping us . . .’ He paused. ‘Right then. You’re coming home with us.’
A multitude of emotions assailed her at once. She couldn’t go home with a stranger, even a hot, sexy one. But the alternative?
‘No. No,’ she said. ‘I can’t do that.’
She didn’t fancy searching for a hotel alone in a strange city. But spending the night with Gabe . . . She stepped away from the car. She barely knew him. He was just being nice. She didn’t want to be a burden, particularly after everything he’d been through. She ran some more excuses through her mind, but in reality, she didn’t want to say goodbye and walk away.
‘Sorry, Charlie, but this isn’t up for discussion. You’ve clearly no idea where you’re staying, no clothes and it’s now past ten at night.’ He leaned in close. ‘And, let me tell you, this is not a town to be wandering around late at night.’
As if on cue, a group of youths sauntered by, eyeing them intently. She stepped closer to Gabe.
‘See?’ Gabe pointed to the retreating figures.
‘I don’t—’
Gabe threw up his hands in mock frustration. ‘What sort of man would just leave you here?’ He gently propelled her towards the car. ‘Please, Charlie. Hop in the cab and we can sort everything out in the morning.’
Sweet Seduction Page 17
